One Night
by Pereybere
Summary: He said all they would need was one night. One night to get it all out of their system and then everything would be back to normal. B and B.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **One Night

**Disclaimer: **Yeah… they're not mine.

**Summary: **He said all they would need was one night. One night to get it all out of their system and then everything would be back to normal. B and B.

**Rating: **Oh this is SUCH an M rated story.

**A/N: **Real note at the end this time. Please review!

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She felt like a sleuth, perched at the edge of the ornate arm chair, her head bent forward in case anyone recognised her; since her interview on television recently, her books had sky-rocketed and apparently, so had people's knowledge of who she was. She felt like a celebrity, however minor.

The foyer was a large airy circle filled with beautiful furniture and beautiful people. The polished surface of the tan marble floor resonated the sound of every stiletto heel and the fresh bouquets of lilies, standing straight and pristine in the crystal vases seemed only to be a testament to the prestige of the hotel.

Dressed in her work clothes, she wished they had opted for somewhere a little more low key; a place where she paid a clerk some money and got a room key. What she was doing was illicit anyway and at least a cheap hotel somewhere would have allowed a certain amount of privacy. A central hotel in Washington, D.C. was asking for trouble, really.

Turning her face towards the window, away from the bustle in the foyer, she held her bag to her stomach and thought about how she had ended up at the luxury hotel, at all. In her own mind it all seemed a little far-fetched. It was something that happened in erotic books, not in real life. Essentially, she didn't even have time for it; there were three reports on her desk waiting to be finished and a new specimen had been brought into the Jeffersonian that morning.

If only she could have concentrated on anything for more than five minutes.

It was his idea, really. When the palpable tension became too much to bear, he came to her with something of a proposition. He said it would preserve their working relationship if they got all 'the other stuff' out of the way. Clear the air, was how he had put it. He said all they would need was one night. One night to get it all out of their system and then everything would be back to normal.

It had seemed so logical and she was all about logic. Sex was just sex and they were, according to her, satisfying biological urges. She found it ironic that even _that_ word had logical incorporated into it somewhere. But as she sat there, trying to shield her face, she felt like a fraud. Part of her didn't even believe her own excuses.

Things between her and Sully were cooling off now that he was working away. Before he left they had been very careful about not voicing where their relationship was. She had used the 'sex is just sex' line on him too and his face had fallen as though she had broken his heart, but Brennan couldn't help but feel as though the whole thing with Tim Sullivan was just a substitute until she got the sex she truly desired. As he left, they had never voiced that anything was exclusive between them so technically she shouldn't have felt any guilt about waiting on Seeley Booth.

The revolving doors spun and he stepped into the foyer, a charismatic air of authority and raw sexual appeal following him wherever he went. As his eyes scanned the sofas and chairs for her, she allowed herself the opportunity to drink him in; grey suit and dark red tie he was like something taken straight from the pages of GQ and she couldn't believe how much his presence affected her.

Their eyes met and together, as if by unspoken agreement, they lurched into business mode because, after all, this was nothing if it wasn't a business agreement; preserve their partnership above all else. He showed her the key to their suite and she was surprised that he had thought to check into the hotel before meeting with her. It made things a little less conspicuous. He strode across the foyer to the reception desk, murmured something to the receptionist who glanced over his shoulder at her and nodded sharply.

Brennan shifted, wondering if she had 'rampant hussy' written across her forehead.

"Let's go, Bones," Booth said, his voice a lowly growl as he directed her towards the elevators. His hand found her arm and she held her head high, hoping that, between the foyer and their room, no one recognised either of them. The last thing she needed was for her colleagues at the Jeffersonian getting wind of her afternoon meeting with their favourite FBI agent.

The journey in the elevator was awkward and Booth didn't even hum to the music. She watched the numbers above the panel, hoping that her tension wasn't too apparent. There was nothing wrong with the choice they had made. It was simple, no strings attached sex and by tomorrow, everything would be great.

Their suite was glorious – three of the walls were entirely made of glass, overlooking the tidal basin of the Potomac, the waters shimmered under the late afternoon sun and the cherry blossoms around the Jefferson memorial were a dusky pink in the fading light. Brennan admired the grandeur of it all, knowing that it was a waste of money, really. There were two sofas, two footstools in a beautiful antique French style, a mini bar and a patio that was made for romance, especially on such a lovely evening. And all _they_ needed was a bed.

"This is a little upmarket," she commented, trailing her fingers over the back of the sofa. "A view over the East Park?" craning her neck, she drank in the sight, resenting herself for enjoying it, even a little.

"I thought it was nice," Booth replied, tugging the knot of his tie. "Would you like a drink?" he asked. Brennan shook her head.

"I think we should just do what we came here to do," she responded, bending to unzip her boots. Booth sighed, dropping his head back.

"There's no romancing you, is there?" Brennan placed her boots at the side of the sofa, considerably smaller than him, now.

"This isn't about romance," she reminded him. "It's about-"

"Sex. Yes, I know." There was a softness to his voice, as though he had resigned himself to something. She folded her arms beneath her breasts.

"Are you having second thoughts?" she asked, surprised by how intensely she hoped he wasn't.

"No," he shook his head. "No. Absolutely not." He pulled his tie off now, draping the fine, quirky silk over the back of the sofa. Red tie, grey suit, definitely not government issue. She felt the corners of her lips rise in a semi-smile. There was a maze of truth inside his head and she felt certain his therapist was right when he said the ties and socks were just Booth's ways of rebelling. Before, it was gambling.

She ruffled her hair, passing her tongue over her teeth. "I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to be doing," she admitted. "I've never met in a hotel for sex, before." Why hadn't they met at her apartment? Oh yes… Booth said it would be too personal. That, essentially, they should just be two people, having sex. "Should I get undressed?" she asked, gesturing to her shirt. Booth followed her hands and a moment of absurdity passed silently between them and they both smiled and one and other. "This is crazy," she voiced, dropping to the sofa. Her hands trembled when he took the space beside her, his eyes set dead-ahead.

"Crazy," he echoed with a sharp nod. "It doesn't stop me wanting you, though," Booth added, wringing his fingers together. "Which means this… situation… hasn't been resolved yet." Brennan dropped her chin to her chest, her pulse fluttering like the velvety wings of a butterfly.

She inhaled.

A resolution. They were looking for a resolution.

She turned her head towards him, reaching out, she dropped her hand to his thigh, initially intending only to reassure him, his eyes flew to hers and she knew he had interpreted her touch as the first move. His muscles tightened beneath the expensive wool pants he wore and her gaze fluttered involuntarily to his crotch. She recognised the stirring of arousal, and her fingers shifted toward the impressive bulge.

Booth grabbed her wrist, a raging furnace burning in the depths of his eyes; a raw sexuality that took her breath away. "You do that, this will be over before we've started." She held his gaze, pushing the boundaries in ways she knew Booth would appreciate, what with his 'rebellions'. She stroked him quickly, allowing herself the pleasure of feeling how hard he was for her. She tilted her head, a curtain of russet hair falling across her cheeks. She momentarily felt wicked and the satisfaction was remarkable.

Sliding off the sofa, she turned to the window. The sky was a blaze of vibrant colours against the DC skyline. She paused to admire it. Knowing that too much delay would alert Booth to her true appreciation of it, she quickly turned back to him, flicking the buttons of her shirt. He leaned back against the plush cushions, his legs spread as he watched her.

"Are you in a hurry?" he asked slowly. Her fingers stilled on the last button. "We have the room until noon tomorrow." Brennan blushed at the thought of so many hours of nothing but sex.

"I have work at nine am." His eyes raked over her, so slow she almost shifted beneath the weight of his gaze.

"You _might_ have work at nine am," he corrected eventually and her cheeks fired. Her hands fell by her side and she suddenly felt hot – too hot for spring. Her skin burned as though it were mid-July and she dwelled momentarily on how such a vague promise could arouse her so much. Did he really think they'd still be having sex at nine am the next morning? She hadn't expected their agreement to last beyond nine pm!

He shifted forward on the sofa, reaching out to grab her hips. She fell towards him, breathless with expectation. His thumbs traced her hipbones, a whispering touch that only hinted to his greater desire. She tilted her body towards him, popping the last button on her shirt. Her torso flexed in anticipation of his touch and he watched her muscles tremble, aroused by the fact that her body simply could not lie.

He stroked her navel, his tongue stirring with the urge to taste her. This moment was a long time coming. Sexual tension had been rampant between them almost since the moment they had met, and finally he was getting to touch her. She was sexually liberated and she would be in _his_ arms tonight. Not David from the Internet and not Sully. He nuzzled the space between her breasts, touching his tongue to her breast bone. Her fingers sank into his hair, her nails digging into his scalp. He quite enjoyed the twinge of pain.

Her nipples pressed against the satin and lace mesh of her bra, dark pink against the pristine ivory. His tongue passed over the material and he felt the hard nubs against the tip of his tongue. He pressed his lips together, capturing the puckered areola, tugging hard enough to draw a startled gasp from her lips. Her hips thrust forward and his hands stilled her, her buttocks tight against his fingertips. Suckling on her, he listened to the murmurs of encouragement, tasting the flavour of her skin, even through the wispy bra she wore. Her fingers tugged his hair, and his lips momentarily left her breast as his head bent backward. Her eyes burned into his; a mixture of green and blue, he saw something in her that he never imagined he would get to and now he had, he had no way of even cataloguing what it was.

He unbuttoned her pants, easing them over her thighs. When she stepped out of her clothes, dressed only in her underwear, his breath was sucked from his lungs; she looked better than even his wildest fantasies had conjured and there had been many of those, lately.

Her fingers left his hair, fumbling with the tiny buttons of his dress shirt. His hands covered hers and together they slipped each button through the holes, pulling the tails from inside his pants. In the next instant, her fingers were roving his body, insistent and urgent, her thumbs moved over his flat, dark nipples, drawing them to small points beneath her touch. He smelt dark and mysterious. Dangerous and wild and something else. Something _him_.

Unzipping his pants, her fingers slid inside, finding him easily. She was overcome with need, shocked at how her desire had possessed her so completely. His penis was harder than steel as she circled him, stroking him from root to tip. Her thumb circled the tip as she ground her body into his. Between them, the smell of arousal was pungent and she breathed in the scent of pheromones, intoxicated by them.

Her cheeks were flushed and her legs unsteady as he undressed completely, his penis springing against his stomach, harder than he could ever remember it being. He stepped towards her, unclipping her bra and easing the straps over her shoulders.

He sat on the edge of the bed and Temperance parted her thighs, lowing herself to his legs. He took her breasts in his hands, his thumbs stroking her nipples as they tightened further. He felt her wetness against his skin and shifted, the tip of him pressed against her opening. As he had imagined, she was ready for him and he sighed, sheathed in her warmth.

Brennan arched her spine, drawing him as far into her body as she could. He filled her, stretched her in ways that only he could. She tensed her muscles, revelling in the sensation of every ridge, meshed with her own flesh. Brennan took his hands, drawing his fingers to her breasts. Slipping her fingers between their bodies, she stroked herself, rolling her hips. He thrust sharply, moaning each time her body tightened around him.

Brennan replayed his hypothesis in her mind and suspected that one night was not going to satisfy her urges whenever it felt so good now. She might be addicted to him, unable to focus without daily doses of him. She rocked against his penis, feeling his balls tighten beneath her.

"Come," he commanded and she flicked her clitoris twice more, shuddering in his arms as he came inside her with shot, intense bursts. She sagged against him, her heart thudding against her chest. She shifted and his fingers tightened around her arm. His hand slid between their bodies, touching her clitoris and she cried out, the over-sensitive bundle of nerves unable to take more than he'd already given. "Okay," he conceded softly. "But we're not finished." His eyes met hers. "Not by a long shot."

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This story came to me when I woke up this morning and I have spent all morning writing it. In the UK it's now 12.20pm and I have been typing since just after 8am. Give me a cookie god-dammit!

Well, the MA version of this story has a little juicy bit extra added in. Click on my profile and on 'homepage' you will be redirected to my little Tripod website. From there, click on MA chapters and you'll find this extended chapter. There is a comment button and the bottom of it so don't forget to use it. And people, use the one beneath this page, too.

Also, you can either imagine what happens next or beg me (via reviews) to continue. Is this manipulation? I think so!

Thank you!


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **One Night

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

**Rating: **M rated on this, MA on personal website.

**A/N: **I've been sick again with the flu – just my luck. But I am starting to get better. My head is sore and my nose is all bunged up but still, I've finished this chapter and I hope you like.

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After the trembling euphoria had worn off, she slid into one of the hotel's gowns, feeling less dirty than she imagined she would. They were friends, after all. Friends, she decided, with benefits. Even if it was only for one night.

Slipping out unto the balcony, she knew that she'd made the right decision by agreeing to his plan. By tomorrow, if everything went well, she'd be back in the Jeffersonian with all of her Booth-curiosities out of her system. And he, well, he'd be back at the FBI headquarters not fantasising about her and production could continue again in their partnership.

Leaning over the balcony edge, she watched amblers as they strode by the hotel, none lifting their heads to notice her. She liked the feeling of being an observer, atop the world.

The air was scented with cherry blossoms, her favourite thing about the banks of the Potomac. There was a tranquillity about the place that made it an ideal place for a hotel – and an illicit meeting. She smiled into her hand, her flesh still throbbing between her legs. When she agreed to meet with him, she had expected it to be good. But there was a lingering effect of their passion that raged through her body. She wanted more, and the itch was unbearable.

Turning back to the hotel room, she watched him through the glass, admiring the hard sculpted lines of his naked body as he lay atop the bed. He had no modesty and his nudity aroused her. Between his thighs, nestled in the wiry dark hair, his penis lay against his belly, semi-hard. She smiled, wondering how easy it would be to arouse him entirely. He turned his head towards her, meeting her gaze. She moistened her lips, the tepid spring air cooling her fevered skin.

Brennan stepped into the bedroom, easing the robe off her shoulders. She was a confident woman and nudity did not abash her. Her nipples tightened in the cool air and she watched his penis harden, pleased that she wasn't the only person who craved sex. She lifted her arms, lifting her hair and fanning the back of her neck. He studied her as if she were a goddess, his eyes lingering on her breasts and then the patch of neat hair between her thighs.

"Come to bed," he commanded with a guttural moan and she sat at the edge of the bed, crossing her legs. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders, wavy and untamed. She massaged the back of her neck, watching him through heavily lidded eyes. "Brennan…" he begged, shifting. She dropped her eyes to his penis, trembling at the thought of him being inside her again.

Reaching out, she took it inside her fist and he bucked into the cone of her hand. She was fascinated by the soft contortions of his face as she stroked him.

He reached for her, releasing himself as he touched her everywhere, his thumbs circling her nipples as his lips parted and captured one in his mouth. She bucked her hips, sinking her fingers into his hair, her nails tight to his scalp as he sucked hard on her nipple, his teeth nipping the pebbled flesh, his tongue soothing his frenzied bites. She alternating sensations made her clit throb and she sighed.

Parting her thighs, she slid her body over his, the hard length of his penis pressed against her clitoris as she moved, the moist tip of him stroking her as though it were he stimulating her and not her own movements that brought such hot waves to her cervix. Temperance bent her head back, rolling her hips. Booth dropped his hands to her waist, shifting their bodies until his penis was pressed against her opening.

She pressed the flat of her hands over his chest, her fingertips against the hard sculpted lines of his pectorals as he slid into her, filling her for what was only their second time, yet he felt like an old lover, familiar and at ease inside her body. His width stretched her, her inner walls liquid molten as they accommodated his size.

Her toes curled, her arched as she bent her body back, her clitoris brushing his groin as she rocked against him, pulling him deeper inside. Keeping one hand on her waist, Booth's hand slid over her torso, taking her breast between his fingers.

Leaning forward, her cinnamon hair fell in a cascade of fiery darkness, unruly and damp. Booth watched her lovely features, her lips parting, how her throat shifted when she swallowed. He wanted to see her eyes, but her lids remained closed tight, squeezed shut, really, as she rode his hips. He understood her desire to separate their actions from their feelings – to convince herself that sex was just sex, despite what 'the heat of the moment' was leading her to believe.

"I want this to last forever," he admitted, drawing her towards him, his lips finding hers. She was hesitant at first, her jaw tight as his tongue brushed the silken skin of her lips. When her passion met with her surprise, she gasped, her tongue meeting his. It was almost as though her reservations evaporated, or were lost amidst her desire. He understood, as her lips parted under his, how two people could have an affair, when logic did not exist when misted by desire.

The waves of pleasure rocked through her, evoked by the intensity of his kiss, and her limber body moved over him, her breasts brushing his chest, her fingers searching his face as they moved from his pectorals. Her need for release hurt, sharp spikes of unsatisfied yearning. His arms folded around her, and her slender frame was lithe and moist as she slid in his embrace, neither breaking free nor willing to stay wrapped in his embrace.

He felt cheated, tortured, as she slid from his arms entirely, looking at him now, daring him to feel something for her, yet explicitly warning him against it. She had a tight reign on her emotions as the beginnings of her orgasm tumbled through her body. He felt oddly cold yet too far gone, wrapped him in the warm wetness of her body, to pull back and demand that they stop. He was addicted to her. His hips flew off the mattress, slamming deeper into her body as she cried out his name, as clinical as ever. Her orgasm was so intense that he felt it himself, rippling through the both of them; vibrating and resonating. Her breasts swayed, her chest heaving and his pleasure was all encompassing as he came in long, powerful bursts inside of her.

Her skin smelt of him, of them, as he slid out of her and she climbed from the bed, naked and as unabashed as before. Her legs were weak, her joints burning as she took a knelt to take a bottle of water from the mini-bar.

Outside the window, Washington, D.C. was a buzz of activity and she paused by the open veranda doors to listen to it for a moment.

"Do we need to talk about this?" Booth asked, pulling his underwear over his legs. She was impressed that he was still semi-hard beneath the cotton.

"About what?" she asked, passing her forearm over the perspiration that had gathered on her brow. She felt as though she had been exercising. "I think what we need to talk about is that it's getting late and there's still so much we have to get through." Her eyes scanned the hotel suite, slow and seductive. "Tell me a secret, Booth," she said, "and I'll tell you where I want to have sex next." His penis stirred a little more inside his underwear.

"Alright," he replied with a dark, dangerous termination, "I think, by your inability to look at me when I am inside you, you're starting to think that one night isn't going to be enough." She took a long drink of water, her eyes shifting to the veranda once again.

"I don't think so, Booth," she replied. "I want to do it out there," Temperance said. "It's the adventurer in me." Booth touched his tongue to his lip, looking out unto the balcony where a beautiful wrought iron table sat against the railing, and where the tops of the cherry blossom trees were just visible from where he stood. "I'd like to eat out there," she added, slipping back into her robe. Booth moved towards her, stealthy as a cat.

"I'd like to eat out there, too," he replied and she caught his eye and grinned.

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You know the drill, the little piece of MA is on my website.

Review this chapter, si vous plait!


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **One Night

**Rating: **M here and MA on my site.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this story. They belong to someone else and I'm only playing with them. I promise to return them to their unharmed state once I am finished.

**Author's Note: **Well it's been some time since I wrote a chapter for this story. I hope everyone likes it and you'll come and read the MA version over at my site.

Booth liked to watch her, sometimes.

Temperance Brennan had a certain appeal to men that he'd noticed since the beginning of their partnership. Gorgeous women with astounding intellect were few and far between and to many men she was an enigma, the perfect woman. As they waited on their food, she brushed her wavy hair and sat in front of the mirror, legs crossed. The bathrobe parted and her long, slim pins drew his eyes.

Who was he trying to kid? He'd tried to joke with her earlier by suggesting that one night wouldn't be enough for her. For _him_! Suddenly it didn't seem like such a good idea anymore. If only they'd been sexual opposites. If only she wasn't so damn perfect when she was writhing naked on the bed.

"You have that look," said Brennan, placing her brush on the dresser she eyed him through the mirror. Booth cleared his throat.

"What look?" he asked, his curiosity aroused. More than just his curiosity, actually. 

"That wild cat look," Brennan explained. "It says a lot about a man. And his libido." Even a word such a _libido _passing over her lips was enough to make him hard. Booth swallowed, unable to tear his gaze from her. One night? Yeah right. One month of making her moan in his name in the throes of orgasm wasn't going to be enough.

Not to mention there was the unspoken but very definite promise of risqué sex on the balcony later. His balls tightened and her eyes raked with dark intent over his body, a smile toying at her lips. God, she was the sexiest woman he'd ever laid eyes on and she was going to kill him. By the time they checked out at twelve noon, he'd be incapable of sex for a week.

Brennan stood, crossing the room to the open doors. She always seemed to be drawn to the magnificent view – to the walkway below, the people, the memorial. Darkness had fallen upon the city and the Washington Memorial stood proudly against the sky, the waters beneath it so tranquilly calm. The scented breeze that blew into their room danced over his bare skin and he shivered. 

She was leaning over the railing when he extracted himself from the bed and crept unto the balcony to join her. Brennan stiffened when he slipped his arms around her, pressing himself against her. Despite herself, she was unable to resist grinding her ass into his erection, her fingers tightening around the railing. A thrill of anticipation began to grow inside her and she sighed. 

His hand slid between the folds of her robe, cupping her breast in the curve of his palm. It felt heavy. Her nipple hardened at once and a moan rose in her throat. 

"Ready again so soon?" he joked, pinching the bud. She arched her spine, gasping. Her knuckles were white around the railing. He swept his eyes across the other balconies, half expecting someone to be peering at them in open-mouthed disgust. Some lights were on but the other doors remained closed – balconies empty.

He kissed the back of her neck, pressing her hip and urging her ass against his penis. She shifted willingly, tossing her head back against his shoulder, her dark hair spilling in untamed waves. She took his hand, easing his fingers inside her dressing gown, between her legs. Booth struggled to hide his delight upon touching her damp curls – her arousal already coating her inner thighs. 

Reaching her hand between their bodies, Brennan found his penis and her fingers curled around him, stroking firmly. He was solid, his flesh harder than steel yet satin soft against her palm. 

He thrust his fingers inside her and she cried out, gnawing the inside of her mouth so hard that she was certain she tasted blood on her tongue. As his thumb touched, his fingers buried themselves deeply in her womb, her walls clenching desperately around him. With each thrust, she stroked him harder. 

"Fuck me, Booth," she whimpered, releasing him, lifting the hem of her bathrobe and leaning further over the balcony. He swallowed hard. Looking over her shoulder, she had a desperate glint in her eyes – the irises so dark with desire they were almost black. 

"Fuck you?" he asked, unable to resist the tease. She was breathless and there was something so vulnerable about having her, bent over the railing and begging him to be inside her. 

"_Yesss_," she allowed herself to whimper. He reached for her hips, teasing her opening with the tip of his penis. Her wetness coated him, soaked his fingers. He'd never had a woman so responsive to him before. Booth eased inside her, watching himself as he disappeared into her body. "_Booth_," she moaned, her arms stretched across the railing as he held her hips. Drawing out, he listened to her ragged breathing, the hiss of pleasure as she forced her ass further back against him, urging him back inside her.

Closing his eyes, he held his breath and complied, thrusting himself as deeply into her as he could. She cried out, loud enough that she could easily alert someone to their activities. Cupping one hand over her mouth, he felt her moist, full lips pressed against his palm, and his penis throbbed inside her. 

Her fingers played with her clit, her breath hot against his hand. 

Which each thrust their bodies slapped together, his thighs hitting hers. Her breasts were bare now, the bathrobe hardly covering her and her nipples were hard. He lowered his hand, pulling one between his thumb and forefinger. Responsible for muffling her own pleasure now, she bit hard on her lip.

"It's not...going to...be...," she breathed, "enough." He thrust harder and her words were lost in her own pleasure. He'd pursue it later – but her acknowledgement of what their sex did to her was the greatest arousal of all. Booth felt his balls tighten as her walls gripped him, almost milking him. She was trembling, her entire body shuddering. Around his penis she got wetter, her muscles turned to a molten liquid.

"God, Bones," he growled, surprised at the intensity of her sudden orgasm. Still, the waves came, seemingly subsiding and then intensifying again. 

"Harder," she demanded breathlessly. Booth took her hips in both hands and drew her hard against him, coming hot and hard inside her. His movements slowed, weakening until he 

was barely thrusting at all. She sagged against the railing, her arms hanging over the end. He withdrew from her body and she grunted, her body tender from their efforts. 

"So," he said, pulling his underwear back over his legs. "One night isn't going to be enough?" he asked.

He straightened, fixing her robe over her body. Her eyes focused on the cityscape as she tried to gain control of her breathlessness. Booth noticed that her fingers were shaking as she tightened the terry-cloth tie. It was delightful to see her lose control so.

"Why do I sense there will be serious repercussions for me?" she asked in a whisper. His hand slid over her ass, stroking the firm contours of her body. Brennan would kill him. Of this, he was certain.

She looked worried.

Grinning, he turned and left her alone.

-End-

Did you like? Do you want more? Gimme feeeeeedback! 


	4. Chapter 4

One Night

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. Unfortunately.

Author's Note: Here is the next chapter of One Night. I have decided to add a bit more emotion and conversation into this one – instead of mindless smut. ;) Not that I don't like mindless smut... it's actually the highlight of my day. But I am also something of a romantic, and I'd like to think Brennan and Booth would base their relationship on more than sex. Is anyone else looking forward to the new episode? I seen an commercial for it last night and I was grinning. I think it will definitely inspire some fanfic from me! Brennan and Booth looking after a baby? Can we all say a collective 'ahhhhh' Anyway, enough rambling from me. It looks like I'm just trying to make my word count higher! Don't forget to review. Enjoy.

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Temperance Brennan massaged complimentary hotel shampoo into her hair. The crème was orange scented and promised to clean and revitalise. Instead, as the hot water cascaded over her shoulders and the orange extract perfumed the steamy air, Brennan found herself thinking of the seediness of the situation. She was using complimentary shampoo because she had not thought to bring her own. In her rush from office to hotel, she had been thinking about one thing and one thing only; sex.

Despite the heat of the water, she trembled.

Outside the bathroom door, Booth had accepted their room service, tipped the waiter and as she tried to scrub her skin clean of three sessions of incredible sex, he was watching basketball on television. If it didn't scare her so much, she'd have found it oddly comforting. 

Normal, even. But it did scare her. Having sex with Booth had been better than she had imagined. When he touched her, she had no inhibitions – having his hands explore her body had been pure bliss and she had so willingly opened herself to him. In all her relationships – serious and otherwise, she had always been in control. Her orgasms were good, yes. Fantastic sometimes, but when Booth touched her – when he slid her tongue inside of her or made love her, she stopped thinking – stopped analysing and just existed. Existed in bliss.

She shut off the shower and wrapped herself in a towel, reaching over the porcelain sink with fancy antique faucets to wipe the steam off the mirror. Her reflection was a fright and her eyes went round and wide as she stared at herself in the wet glass. Pinkish spots dotted the tops of her cheekbones and her skin had a renewed freshness. She looked happy and it terrified her.

Wrapping her hair in another towel, she dried her skin quickly and redressed in the bathrobe. A selection of moisturising creams sat in a neatly arranged semi-circle on the counter. Orange extract again, tea tree cleanser, toner and moisturiser – with pretty little leafy logos and melon face-mist. Brennan looked at them each in turn. She had never purchased fancy cosmetics – she cleansed twice daily and wore night cream before she went to bed. Her make-up to work was minimal because she didn't like blocking her pores with heavy foundations.

Perplexed, she took a handful of cotton-balls, squeezed cleanser unto one and wiped her skin.

"Hey, Bones?"



She started as Booth turned the handle and opened the door, comfortable enough now to walk into the bathroom without waiting for permission. This was bad, she thought. She was nowhere near ready for that kind of familiarity.

"Your food is getting cold," he told her, resting against the door frame. He looked comically feminine in the hotel bathrobe and yet devilishly handsome and utterly irresistible. Brennan swallowed hard, scrunching the cotton balls into the palm of her hand. Her smile was strained and his FBI training – the skilled ability to recognise even the most hidden emotions in people – kicked in immediately. He straightened. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing's wrong!" Brennan laughed, but her voice was hollow. Like that of a woman who had just realised she was trapped in a room with a serial killer. She cleared her throat, unable to look at him as his eyes bored into her – analysing her emotions with an incredible knack. She hoped the eyes were the window to her soul. If she didn't look at him, he'd get zilch.

"Something's wrong alright," Booth confirmed, his voice a lowly growl. "Anyway, you should come eat. It's getting cold," he told her again. She nodded, eyes fixed firmly on the mirror. Her pupils were huge, like those of a cornered kitten. Irritated with herself, Brennan eased the bathroom door shut and drew a long, cleansing breath into her lungs. She needed to calm down.

I am still in control, she insisted. The sex wasn't that good! It was terrible what lies she had resorted to telling herself to maintain control of herself. Even worse that sex was all it took to reduce her to a pile of sentimental mush.



"Get a grip, Tempe," she snapped at her reflection. "One night of sex is what you offered. That's all he's getting." Splashing cold water over her face, she tightened the belt on her robe again and left the bathroom, her spine straight and her resolve strengthened. "You should forget what I said earlier," she said by way of announcement.

Booth, feet propped on the stool, glanced vaguely in her direction.

"Sure," he said, his tone lacking commitment – lacking emotion. She frowned, slipping her hands into the pockets of her robe. "Eat," Booth commanded, gesturing the plate of food on the table. Brennan was surprised by the way he spoke. Complete absence of humour, flirtatiousness – complete absence of anything.

Pouring herself a glass of water, Brennan sat on the floor, chewing slowly on the grilled chicken she had ordered while Booth silently sipped his beer. After awhile, it seemed almost as though she could ignore the tension that had formed between them. In the same way she had closed her emotions down, Booth had done the same and she knew that by refusing to acknowledge her moment of weakness – the admission that she'd made – she'd crossed a line in his book.

"Booth?" she began, pushing her food away. He kept his attention focused entirely on the television.

"Not now, Bones, I'm watching the game."

Brennan unfolded herself from the floor, holding her robe tight over her chest. Her stomach felt tight – tense with the kind of sentiment that she was so unfamiliar with. Climbing into the 

bed, she pulled the duvet over her shoulders and pressed her cheek against the pillow. Perhaps if she slept, by morning their one night would officially be over and she could maintain that she kept to her part of their mutual bargain. Surely he couldn't take something she said in a moment of orgasmic pleasure as sacred?

When she woke, a bluish hue was cast over the walls – eerie enough to draw her into full wakefulness. Sitting up, Brennan realised that the armchairs were empty and so were the three bottles of beer on the table. Their plates had been cleared away and their clothes, tossed unceremoniously in their sexual frenzy, were folded neatly over the loveseat. Hers were, anyway.

Booth's clothes were gone and the downy robe replaced his shirt and pants. She pushed aside the duvet, and swung her legs over the edge of the mattress. Surely he wouldn't just have left? She didn't believe Booth would be so calloused as to leave her alone in the middle of the night – regardless of how much she'd pissed him off.

Trembling, she retied her robe where it had opened and rounded the bed to the balcony. The doors were shut but outside, the wall lamps were lit and cast Booth in a yellowy light. In his hand he nursed a half empty bottle of beer and his shirt was unbuttoned. From behind the curtain, Temperance watched him as he scanned the Washington skyline with a grim expression. His thumb circled the tip of the bottle in slow, even sweeps and occasionally his jaw tightened.

Brennan pushed down on the handle and the door squeaked open. With his thoughts shattered, Booth lifted his eyes to her – still so coldly expressionless.



"Can I sit here?" she asked, gesturing to the empty chair beside his. He gave a one-shouldered shrug, scooting his chair closer to the railing. Below, the walkways were empty and the cherry blossoms still in the stagnant night air. "Booth," Brennan said, crossing her legs as she sat.

"Yes?" he asked, his chin resting on the rail.

"I'm sorry."

She wasn't sure if she was or not. Temperance hated animosity – hated the feeling of something being wrong and apologizing always seemed to ease the tension. She wondered whether she was sorry for saying that she didn't want more than one night or sorry that she felt that way. Or neither.

"No you're not. But that's okay. I'm not intelligent enough to be suitable for the great Temperance Brennan... I'm good in bed but-"

"How dare you, Booth!" she snapped, pushing her chair back and getting to her feet. "That is so out of line. And way off the mark, just so you know." He looked up at her, eyes hooded and dark – the moonlight glinted off his irises like polished stone and she thought she saw something beyond anger there. Hurt... and lust maybe. "I'm..." her eyes searched his, her mouth dry. Suddenly she didn't have anything to say that could justify the way she felt. It stung that he would think that she somehow deemed him unworthy of her.

"You're what?" His voice was low. "I know what you are," Booth added before she could rehydrate her dry throat enough to speak. "You're afraid. You're afraid that really good sex 

could lead to a really good something else and you're pushing me away. But just so you know, it could be really good." She felt numb inside as he took a long swig of his beer and turned back to the view over Washington. Something had been finalised in the way he spoke and she knew better than to continue when he was in such a foul mood.

"Are you coming to bed?" she asked instead.

"In awhile," he replied without looking at her.

"Booth..." Brennan touched his arm, his skin hot through his shirt. He stiffened but still refused to look. "Come now," she insisted, her nails pressed firmly against his bicep. A few moments passed and he eventually stood, the bottle of beer clinking as he left it on the tiled floor, stepping towards her with silent footfalls. She trembled inside her gown, peering up at him with eyes as wide as a startled animal.

"For sex?" he asked, his forehead creased. His voice was laden with disappointment.

"No..." she insisted, her heart thudding. "Just give me some time to get reacquainted with sharing myself with someone else... please? Don't be so..." Brushing aside the curly tendrils of rusty hair that had been left to dry naturally, he caressed her neck and cheeks with the sort of tenderness that none of her previous lovers had ever exercised upon her. She realised that she was genuinely sorry – mostly for her own inability to recognise something truly great without needing to sabotage it with her naturally analytical thoughts.

"Okay," Booth conceded, dropping his hands. "Lets go to bed."

-End-

* * *

A little bit of angst there. Don't worry, they'll be rolling between the sheets again in no time. Breakfast at 9am, pre-checkout sex and then maybe a resolution for them. What do you think? Let me know. Thank you for reading and also, thank you to everyone who has been taking the time to review my work – both on and on – it's nice to know that there are people out there taking an interest in what I am doing. Even though I haven't replied to every single comment, I want everyone to know I am reading and I really appreciate them all. Thanks!


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: **One Night

**Rating: **This is a naughty one. M rated for sex.

**Disclaimer: **These characters do not belong to me. No infringement intended.

**Author's Note: **Okay, this story will soon be wrapping up. Another chapter or two will finish it, I think. Let me know what you think of this one! :)

* * *

Booth felt groggy.

Weak sunlight filtered into the hotel room – golden beams slanting across the luxurious beige carpet and striking the cotton sheets. He squinted, rubbing his eyes as he shook off the disorientation. Seeley Booth was rarely disorientated – always alert since his days in the military. In those days, a man didn't get along well without alertness. It dawned on him that this was the first time in years that he'd slept so soundly as to be almost unaware of his surroundings when he woke.

It both displeased and elated him.

Beside him, snuggled beneath the heavy duvet and wedged between two giant pillows, Temperance Brennan's hair that was the same shade as shiny new chestnuts, spilled across the pristine white fibres and all his thoughts of sleep disappeared in a mere instant. Moving slowly, mindful not to wake her, Booth repositioned himself against the oak headboard, watching her breathe.

Unpainted fingers were stretched across the mattress as though reaching across the infinitely wide king-sized bed towards him. During the night, neither of them had ventured across the chasm that was their shared bed, fearful of the implications – he, scared that the slightest advancement would push Brennan back into herself and she afraid that seeking comfort in him would mean that it was too late to turn back. Too late to truly cement the idea of one night being insufficient time together. Booth eyed her slim fingers, her smooth hands and recalled having her touch him with the gentle persistence and he sighed morosely. How he longed to have her open herself to him – and now just as the sexy creature that she was. As Temperance Brennan.

Lewd thoughts consumed him as his eyes ravaged her. She hadn't allowed herself to touch him, yet she was completely unabashed by nudity and had removed the robe during the night. Her back was bare, the skin flawless. He followed the curve of her spine, all the way to the rise of her ass. She was beautiful, he thought. Her figure wasn't like that of the straight up-and-down model types that he usually went for. Brennan didn't have a boyish figure. She had sweet curves, heavy breasts, a shapely ass. She was all woman and he craved more of her as each second ticked painfully by.

He stroked her hip, watching as her fingers curled instinctively and a soft hum rose in her throat. Sub-consciously, she tilted her body and his hand moved over her flat torso, his fingers sprawled across her. With a sleepy voice, muffled by the pillows that almost consumed her, Brennan said:

"Are you trying to seduce me?"

It was the sexiest sound he'd ever heard and instantly, he was hard. Shifting his hand upward, to the underside of her breast, he smirked.

"Of course I am, Bones..." he replied, his fingers dancing tentatively over her nipples. At once, the coral flesh began to pucker, hardening to his touch. He was delighted at how easily her body could be aroused by him. A budding nipple strained tightly against the curve of his palm and he pinched it between his fingers, overjoyed at the sharp gasp that was drawn from her mouth and how her hips shot forward. Nipping harder, a yelp of pain broke the sultry mood and Booth leaned closer, smiling against her neck. Opening his fingers, he soothed the infliction to her breast and her gentle mewling, almost a purr, resumed. "You're very responsive today," he commented, his tongue tasting the base of her neck.

Brennan's body moved easily across the sheets as she slid unto her back, peering up at him through crystalline blue eyes. Scrubbing her face with her hands, she wiped sleep from the corners of her eyes. It felt as though all their awkwardness was gone, and the boiling arousal was pulsating between them again. She looked simply divine – newly woken, clinging to the last vestiges of slumber, there was a delicate innocence about her now. Temperance hadn't yet had time to reconstruct the watertight walls around her heart.

As she stretched, Booth leaned closer and inhaled her sweet yet slightly musky scent. She looked simply edible, he thought, with her pink nipples straining upwards, peaking her soft peachy breasts, and her stomach curving inward as she held her arms far above her head. He dropped his head, capturing one nipple between his lips. She gasped, dropping her arms and sinking her fingers into his hair.

Booth's leg slid over hers, urging her knees apart. She was willing, opening herself to him without complaint. Suckling hard, his fingers trailed over her shin, dancing softly over the sensitive spot behind her right knee, along the backs of her thighs and ever upward. The breaths she took became longer, more laboured.

She was already wet. He could smell the sweetness of her already and his tongue longed to taste her again. Running his fingers over her opening, he revelled in how hot her flesh already was – how ready she was for him. Two fingers slid easily inside her moist tunnel and she tossed her head back against the pillow, pressing harder on the back of his head and thrusting her hips upward, urging him deeper inside her body. Booth had learned very quickly that Brennan liked it deep.

He hoped for more opportunities to learn about her sexual preferences.

In slow even circles, Booth rolled his thumb over her clitoris, each touch matching the sharp thrust of his fingers inside her. Brennan murmured a fevered plea, releasing his hair and trailing her nails over his back. He winced against her breast and she paused before resuming the brutal assault on his skin. Lifting his head, Booth peered into her wide-eyes and noted the frenzied desire that raged there – out-of-control and burning with the kind of intensity that he'd never witnessed in any woman before.

She released him, taking her own breasts into her hands, Brennan pinched her nipples until the tender flesh was berry-red. Her mouth was open, her full lips trembling with the force of her pleasure. He frowned, perplexed at the frenzy in her eyes as she thrust her hips and seemed to take control of her 

own satisfaction. Releasing her left breast, Temperance reached between them and seized his wrist, wrapping her fingers around him and thrusting him deeply into her body. She called out his name, her body flooding with wetness. Her thrusts persisted and each movement was punctuated by a shrill cry. He thought she might hurt herself if she pinched her nipples any harder.

Finding the back of his neck, she forced his head down upon her breast. "Bite," she commanded gruffly. For a moment he was frozen, painfully aroused at watching his gorgeous creature bring herself to orgasm. "I said _bite_, dammit!" His teeth closed hard over her nipple, and she almost screamed. "Oh _God_!" Breathless, her entire body began to quake and her orgasm ripped through her body in ferocious waves.

When she flopped lifelessly against the mattress, Booth gently eased his fingers from her body and continued to suckle her nipple until she had regained control of her breathing.

"God Bones, _what_ was that?" Her smile was dazzling as she pushed herself up and held the sheet to her naked breasts as though suddenly overcome with modesty. A blush tinged her high cheeks.

"I'm very highly sexed in the mornings," she told him. Booth grinned.

"Yeah, no kidding." He swung his legs over the side of the bed, stretching.

"Oops..." Brennan murmured, gnawing on her lip. He turned, eyes widened in question. "I think I maybe got a bit rough with you back there." Tipping her head, she gestured to his back. "I've cut you." Reaching over his shoulder, Booth pressed his fingertips to the rising welts along his trapezium muscles. Chuckling, he shook his head.

"These war wounds are different to the ones I'm used to." Brennan watched as he crossed the room, picking up the phone to order breakfast. She wondered what it would be like to have a relationship like this all the time. Sex and companionship. There was something oddly comforting about it. Like Angela had once said: "do you ever look at a guy and just think 'screw it!'?"

Reaching over the edge of the bed, she searched the carpet for her robe and dressed quickly. The aftershocks of her orgasm still rippled through her limbs and she felt weak as she climbed from the bed, padding barefoot across the bedroom. Booth replaced the receiver as she approached, running her fingertips tenderly over the scrapes she'd caused. He glanced back at her, confused.

"What?" she asked, mildly offended. "I'm checking that you're alright." Brennan pulled her hand away, feeling like the naughty child caught at the cookie jar. Sighing, she lowered her eyes to the floor. Had she become to disconnected with others that people now thought her to be incapable of tenderness?

"Hey," Booth reached out, stroking her face. "There's plenty of time later in the day to over analyse, okay? How about for now, we enjoy breakfast and pretend that life is all good?" The ghost of a smile appeared on her lips and she eventually nodded her consent. "Great! I bet the breakfast they serve in this place will be just perfect." Brennan watched as he almost skipped off to the bathroom to brush his teeth and, sitting alone staring at the door, she wondered whether she could let herself finally open her heart to him.



-End-

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: **One Night

**Rating: **M rated on and MA rated on my own website – linked through my profile. For those of you who haven't already, come and join the bones fanfiction website!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Brennan or Booth. Rights belong to Hart Hanson. No infringement is intended.

**Author's Note: **This is the last chapter of _One Night_ – It's been laziness on my part by not wrapping it up before now and if you're glad to see it you should thank Ger aka Aching Bones for the personal email she sent me asking me to get a move on – in a very nice way of course!

lb

"I've ate more than I should have," she complained, sitting back against the padded dining chair. "More than what I usually eat all day." She surveyed the remains of her breakfast; scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, a pile of the softest most delicious pancakes and golden, sticky syrup – a small dot of which lingered agonizingly tempting on the corner of her mouth. Booth sipped his coffee, watching her over the rim with dark eyes – his gaze intent. "What are you staring at?" she asked, smirking self consciously. "Do I have something in my teeth?"

"No, but you've a glob of syrup stuck to your mouth." His grin was wide and easy. Brennan flicked her thumb over her lip, frowning. "You're cute when you're not being all condescending and intelligent. There's something very _un-_intelligent about you when you've missed your mouth." He drained his coffee, placing the cup on the matching china saucer with a clatter before getting to his feet. She watched him knot his tie, checking his reflection in the mirror.

"Hmm," she responded. "Imagine how I feel when I watch you shovelling pie." Brennan stood, tightening her robe. "Can we talk?" she asked, standing in the bathroom doorway as he trailed his fingers through his hair. The air smelt of soap and cologne – of Booth, she thought. "I thought maybe we should talk about things and come to a resolution before we leave today. We work together after all." She thought of her colleagues at the Jeffersonian and how they'd surely recognise tension between them.

"Sure," Booth said resting against the counter, crossing his legs at the ankles and his arms across his chest. A classic defensive pose, she knew.

"Yeah... umm... should we sit?" With her hand she gestured to the unmade bed and the sofa beyond. He levelled a stare. "Or we could just discuss it here. Last night was good. Better than good, it was great! I don't mean to insinuate that your technique was less than adequate because that's certainly _not_ the case. Umm..." He tried to hide his amusement at her discomfort but he so enjoyed watching her, the unflappable Temperance Brennan, squirming. "I know I'm reserved and somewhat emotionally stunted. Angela tells me so all the time and I'm... embarrassed by how I am perceived to be cold." He straightened, crossing the bathroom to stand before her.

Her chestnut hair sat about her face still uncombed and her cheeks were flushed pink both with anxiety and her resent orgasm. In her eyes he saw a self-doubt that he never thought he'd witness in her for all the time he'd known her she'd been so confident and certain of herself. He recognised that underneath the professional facade, Brennan was just like the other women he'd known. Like them and yet so unique.

"Brennan," he began before pausing and clearing his throat. "Temperance," he corrected softly, resting his hands on her shoulders. The muscles beneath were tight and he realised just how nervous this conversation made her. "You may come across at times as being incredibly clinical, but in the time I've known you I have never met a more compassionate woman. You might not be an FBI agent and your calling may lie in the hard laws of science and laboratory but you have a desire to help people, to put their sorrows to rest and give the victims of misjudge peace. Professionally, I've never met a warmer person. Personally... I'm just getting to know you and..." he took a deep breath. "This is such an unmanly thing to say and if it ever gets out, you're in mega-trouble, but you are an amazing lover... you're fierce and gentle, wild and sated and this morning when I woke up I was more satisfied than I've ever been in my life." _And I want every morning to be exactly the same_¸ he added silently.

She looked at her feet, heaving a deep sigh. "Well... that makes this easier. Booth... I'd like to continue things with us. Nothing dramatic," she added with a shaky laugh. "I'm not suggesting marriage or children... certainly not children. But... are we too old to be boyfriend and girlfriend?" He smiled at her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I've never been big on official names anyway. We are what we are and right now, we're enjoying each other's company right?" She nodded. "No one needs to know, Brennan. Not at the FBI and not at the Jeffersonian. We're adults, and we can have a private relationship outside of work." He thought about having dinner with her, sleeping in the same bed as her and finally, with a tremble running through his body, making love to her knowing that his time with her wasn't limited to a measly twenty four hours in a hotel room.

"I guess so," she agreed. "I'd like to keep this quiet... no speculation." Now that she'd opened herself to the idea, it didn't seem so scary to be in a relationship with Booth. She was smiling somewhat 

when he leaned down and kissed her quickly on the lips. For their first official relationship kiss, she was disappointed. But it felt oddly familiar.

"We need to be leaving otherwise we'll be late." Just as they'd arrived, Brennan knew they'd leave separately. He to his office and she back to the lab. "But if you like we can meet for dinner tonight?" She began to dress, shaking her head as she did.

"Can't tonight," she replied. "I have a sixteenth century skeleton to authenticate and a dozen reports to write." As she bent to gather her belongs, including the discarded vibrator that had provided her so much pleasure the night before, he stepped behind her and reached for her hips. She stiffened, his arousal pressing against the curve of her ass. "Although... you could come by later tonight." He gasped, scandalised.

"A booty call?" He asked, pressing harder against her now. She was already wet and the thought of working through an entire day was torture. "I feel cheapened." Booth stepped back and she almost whimpered as she straightened, turning to face his half-smiling, half-scowling face. "Although I'm not going to refuse. You're killing me, Brennan." He took her hand, guiding her open palm to his erection, straining against his pants.

"We're going to be late," she protested weakly, stroking him now of her own accord. He groaned, releasing her hand. "But... we're never late. What's one day?" He grinned, reaching for her. His mouth found hers in an instant as he led her eagerly towards the bed.

"One night," he scoffed as he began to free her of the clothes she'd only just put on. "As if."

-End-

Well it was just a short chapter to tie things up. I had planned to write it like this and never got around to it (aka pure laziness). Thanks Ger! I hope everyone enjoyed this wee story. Don't forget to drop me a wee review.


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